Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 195 - Expired meat

As much as Muchen desperately wanted to leave the mall, reality shackled him in place. Two of their men were down—one from injury, the other from sheer exhaustion.

Shao sat against the cold tiled wall, his face pale and clammy. Despite the unnatural angle of his leg, he didn’t let out even the softest groan. But his clenched jaw, sweat-soaked hair, and trembling fingers betrayed his pain. Qiu Yue hovered beside him, glasses slipping down his nose as he carefully pressed around the swelling.

"You fractured your tibia," he murmured, trying to keep his voice level, "possibly the fibula too. You’re lucky the bone didn’t break through the skin." frёeωebɳovel.com

"I can still Walk," Shao rasped, though his voice shook with strain.

"No, you can’t," Qiu Yue snapped. "You’re not moving an inch until we find something to splint this. If you keep pressing on it, it’ll get worse."

Gritting his teeth Qui yue glanced at Muchen who was sitting dejectedly in a corner.

"He will understand. Just rest. We’ll get to that military bunker and check his baby out,"

Shao’s eyes then fell on another figure on the ground.

On the other side of the room, Jai was slumped against a wall, mouth slightly open, snoring softly. No matter how hard they nudged him, called his name, even waved food under his nose—he wouldn’t stir.

The ground spike technique had drained everything from him. His body had gone into shutdown, like a fuse blown out from overload.

So leaving the mall immediately was out of the question.

They took the time to barricade the doors, using overturned carts, furniture, and whatever debris they could scavenge. It was Zei, surprisingly, who offered the next strange idea.

"What if we toss that tall freak’s corpse outside?" he said, voice hesitant but thoughtful. "Its scent... whatever weird alpha presence it had—maybe it’ll scare off other zombies?"

It wasn’t the worst idea.

So, together, they carefully dragged the lanky corpse toward the shattered entrance. It was heavier than it looked, almost unnaturally dense. With one last heave, they tossed it out onto the mall’s steps and watched it land with a thud.

Then they sealed every last door.

Night came down like a black curtain.

The city outside turned quiet—but not peaceful. Somewhere far away, a cry echoed. And deeper still, a monstrous moan rolled through the streets.

Still, in the depths of the mall, tucked away in the basement level, they found a dimly-lit supermarket.

And inside, like a gift from the gods, they found food.

Boxes of noodles. Jars of pickled vegetables. And meat—precious meat, packed in a fridge.

Hana, eyes sparkling, took command of the kitchen like a woman possessed.

"I’ve never been starved like this before," she whispered, throwing handfuls of thinly-sliced beef, pork, and chicken into the pot. The broth bubbled, sizzling with spice and oil. Soon, it overflowed with steaming goodness.

The savory aroma filled the room like a warm blanket.

Qiu Yue sat beside her, watching skeptically. "That meat’s been out for more than four hours..."

Hana rolled her eyes and snatched a cooked strip from the broth. "Who cares? It’s meat and I’m starving."

She blew gently on the steaming piece before holding it out to Yuki, who stared with wide eyes. The little girl opened her mouth obediently and took a bite.

Her face lit up. "Yummy!"

"I know!" Hana squealed, bouncing a little as she clapped her hands.

Muchen watched the others eat with wide grins and flushed cheeks. The warmth of the hotpot wafted through the air, wrapping around them like a comforting blanket in the cold, broken world. He sat slightly apart, hands resting over his stomach. His body ached from fatigue, but it was the churning in his gut that kept him still—an odd mix of hunger and dread.

His stomach let out a loud growl, loud enough to draw a few amused glances. But he didn’t move. He didn’t reach for a bowl. His appetite had been swallowed by worry.

’little baby, mommy is so sorry for hurting you. Please... please stay with me.’

A shadow limped over. Muchen looked up and blinked. "Shao?"

The man hobbled toward him with a makeshift splint made from broken chair legs and twisted metal rods bound with strips of torn cloth. His leg looked swollen under the bindings, skin purpling, but he walked—no, dragged himself—without a single groan of pain.

"Aren’t you supposed to be in a wheelchair?" Muchen mumbled, frowning.

Shao chuckled softly and sat down beside him, wincing just a little. "It’s strange. It hurt like hell when it broke, but after a few minutes... the pain dulled. Now it’s like it’s not even there."

Muchen’s eyes immediately darted to the injured leg. "That’s not normal... you can still move it, right?"

Shao flexed his ankle, the motion slight and careful. "Yeah. It works. I’m not disabled, don’t worry." He reached over and patted Muchen’s shoulder with his calloused hand. "Now eat. You look like you’re about to pass out."

Muchen opened his mouth to object, but just then Lu Zhi came bounding up like an overeager puppy. "Bro! Eat up!" he chirped, thrusting a warm bowl into Muchen’s hands.

Steam curled from the noodles, fragrant and rich. Stewed meat floated at the top, glistening with fat. It smelled... incredible. Like memories of home, before all this started.

Lu Zhi plopped down next to him, already stuffing his face. "I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten," he mumbled through a mouthful, slurping a noodle that left sauce on his cheek. "Even better than my grandma’s stew! And that stuff won awards."

Muchen gave a faint smile and looked down at the food. His fingers curled tighter around the bowl.

He ate the hot noodles with tears in his eyes. ’baby... mommy will eat healthy, so.... So please be with me. I love you so much,’ he closed his eyes tight.

*******

Elsewhere, beneath a star-streaked sky...

Yunfeng lay on his back, the cracked asphalt beneath him rough and cool against his feverish skin. His entire body ached—not with pain, but with absence. It was like his nerves had snapped one by one, leaving behind only silence in his limbs. His fingers wouldn’t twitch. His legs were deadweight.

But his eyes... they still moved.

And they were staring up.

The sky above was clearer than he had ever seen it. Without light pollution, without the buzz of power grids and city glare, the stars emerged from hiding like thousands of glittering memories scattered across ink.

Yunfeng blinked slowly, breath hitching in his dry throat.

So many stars... it’s almost pretty enough to forget I’m naked and dying on the side of a zombie-infested road.

His mouth curled into a faint, dry smile. Even now, humor clung to him like a second skin.

He tilted his head to the side with great effort. The rough ground scraped his cheek, but he barely felt it. His gaze shifted to the empty road behind him.

There was no movement. Not even the shuffle of the undead.

Not a single corpse.

Not even the thousands that should’ve come storming out from the city when he unleashed his flames.

Why...?

His brows furrowed, and he tried to speak but all that came out was a raspy whisper.

"I was literally here... naked... like an open feast," he murmured. "Why didn’t they do anything...?"

Then his eyes locked onto something in the air—a soft glimmer, floating like golden mist just a few feet away. The same foggy, pollen-like particles he saw earlier.

They shimmered under the moonlight, dense and strange. And still emanating from the curled corpse of that mutated zombie.

His breath caught in his throat.

Is it... because of that thing?

The realization slowly slithered its way into his sluggish mind.

That creature—its mist—had scared off every single other zombie.

Yunfeng blinked, vision blurry as a silhouette moved into view — tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in the night like some wandering relic of war.

A voice cracked through the silence, urgent and too familiar.

"Yunfeng? Yunfeng— damn it!"

Then arms — strong, calloused, steady — scooped him off the cold asphalt like he weighed nothing. A heavy military coat, was wrapped around his burned, trembling body. The coat swallowed him whole, but the hands holding him were impossibly gentle.

Kailun.

The old man’s face was shadowed under the moonlight, but his eyes were wide with a rare panic. His grizzled beard twitched as he clenched his jaw, holding Yunfeng close.

"Is he bleeding? Check his back—check everything," he barked at the two soldiers who flanked him. They rushed forward without hesitation, scanning Yunfeng’s limp body for wounds.

"No bites, General," one confirmed, his voice laced with disbelief. "But his body temperature is unstable. He’s burning up sir."

"He’s been like this for a while," the other murmured, looking down the road toward the glowing gold haze in the distance. "He shouldn’t be alive..."

Kailun didn’t reply. He crouched low for a moment, adjusting his grip as if Yunfeng. "lets take him away,"